


3.) Frozen

by tbazzsnow (Artescapri)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Round Robin, Watford Fifth Year, cuddling for warmth, mostly Baz POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 07:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19080130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow
Summary: Baz has been avoiding Simon. Simon's not having it. Tempers are lost, things chill out, morning brings some interesting revelations.





	3.) Frozen

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 3 of the Carry On Round Robin. Prompt in the tags. Sorry it's a bit long.

Carry On Round Robin Chapter 3

**Frozen**

**Simon**

The fucking bastard is avoiding me. 

Baz usually doesn’t flat out skulk about in the dark corners of the buildings, stay out on the pitch until it’s dark, or study in the library this much, even if he is a bloody vampire. 

He’s avoiding the room completely. Not even indulging in his usual insults or attempts to rile me up. Just ghosting me at every turn. 

It’s maddening. 

He’s up and out of the room before I wake up. He’s never in the Great Hall when I am. I can’t talk to him in class and once class is over he’s off, Dev and Niall flanking him like bloody bodyguards. 

I’ve stayed up past midnight three nights straight in an attempt to confront him but I’ve fallen asleep before he’s come in each time.

By the time the nightmares wake me up the tosser’s already buried under a mound of blankets and fast asleep. 

I tried to stay awake after last night’s nightmare, to catch him before he got in the shower, but I fell asleep just before sunrise. I woke to find him gone. Again. 

Wanker.

I just want to talk to him. I need to know if what I felt was real. If Baz was comforting me that night. 

I’m furious that he’s managed to avoid me this long.

I need to know.

**Baz**  

It’s been just over a week now, since I punched Snow. The simmering hostility between us is palpable. I’ve been avoiding the room like the plague. It’s a good thing Dev and Niall are so accommodating to my presence in theirs. 

I’ve been forced to rise far earlier than usual, to my seething resentment, just so I can shower before Snow wakes up. I hoof it to down to Dev and Niall’s right after and annoy them until it’s time for breakfast. 

Every time I catch sight of Snow he’s exuding rage and resentment. He glares at me at every opportunity. He radiates open hostility in the Great Hall. On the Lawn. 

In the classroom.

“Mr. Snow.” 

“Yes, Miss Possibelf?”

“Eyes front, young man. Mr. Pitch can’t be that much more fascinating than my lecture, now can he?”

A few people titter nervously, but the stench of smoke grows even thicker at her words. Snow glowers, but thank Crowley he actually turns his eyes away from me for once. It’s a blessed relief even though I feel an odd pang of regret as he does. 

I shake my head. I don’t know why I would feel that. I don’t want him to look at me. I want him to leave me the fuck alone. 

The surge of his magic has left everyone a little dazed, even me it seems, though I should be used to it by now. 

Snow’s been leaking it all over the school. He practically set his homework on fire in Greek this morning, sparks tumbling off his fingers as he clenched and unclenched his fists and scowled at me. Bunce kept tapping at him with her ring. Probably spelling the sparks away. 

I take all my books with me to football practice now and camp out in the library after dinner. Then I head to the Catacombs late in the night. Anything to avoid the room.

To avoid Snow.

He turns in early.  Always has. I wait until well past midnight, and then I wearily climb the stairs to Mummer’s and silently tiptoe into our room.

This has been my routine all week. I’ve been fortunate enough to find him sleeping every time I’ve come in so far.  

I’ve even refrained from closing the window, on the off chance he’d hear me do it and wake up. Five years of rooming with Snow have made me anticipate some circumstances and the bloody window has been a years-long conflict. Some battles are worth the effort. Others are too tedious to rehash constantly. By third year I just had Daphne purchase some extra blankets for me.

It’s actually closed tonight, for once. 

I slide my bookbag off my shoulder and toe my shoes off. I glance at Snow. He’s facing the wall, back turned to me. I think he’s asleep. I don’t feel the shimmering heat of his magic or smell the burning scent of it.

I’ve not been sleeping well, what with all this sneaking about avoiding Snow, and a good feed helps me settle sometimes. 

I might have overdone it tonight though. 

I duck into the bathroom, pyjamas in hand. The door creaks ominously, far louder than usual. I dart a quick glance at Snow as I close it behind me but he’s not moved at all. Thank Crowley for that. 

I always have to take a piss after I feed. I left a sizeable pile of rats down there tonight. I can feel the blood sloshing around in my stomach as I change out of my clothes. 

I wash my face and brush my teeth. I rearrange the bottles on the countertop. I’m avoiding going back in the room. I check my eyebrow in the mirror. The singed part is mostly faded now, the brow filling in a bit. I don’t think I’ll need to glamour it for much longer. 

I switch off the light and open the door and that’s when the scent hits me.

Fuck. 

The reek of smoke and smoldering wood unfurls across the room. How could I have missed it? I curse my stupid facial wash. The cedar and bergamot must have masked it while I was behind the door but it rolls over me now, waves of Snow’s magic buffeting me from across the room. 

The onslaught of it makes me stagger and I bump my hip against the doorframe. I stifle a curse and look across the room.  
  
Snow’s awake. He’s sitting up in his bed, shimmering in the moonlight. 

He’s striking. In a murderous, avenging angel sort of way.  The moonlight lightens his tawny skin to a pearly glow, the rumpled mess of his hair glinting almost silver. His eyes are fixed on me and there is nothing angelic about them. 

The shimmering isn’t from the moonlight. He’s furious and his edges are blurring like they do when his magic is out of control. It’s a heat shimmer, like the noonday sun on hot asphalt. 

And it’s all directed at me. 

Fuck. He’s going to go off in our room. What a bloody mess that’s going to be. I’ve got to stop him somehow, but I’m usually the one pouring gas on that particular fire.

Fuck. 

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all week, you coward.” Snow spits the words out, eyes blazing. 

Seeing in the dark is bloody useful most of the time but fucking awful right now. He’s staring so hard it’s as if he’s trying to look _through me._ Like he wants to strip the skin right off of me and tear me down to my bloody bones. 

I’ve had my fair share of Snow’s glares. I don’t think I’ve ever been on the receiving end of one that’s quite this enraged. Not when he broke my nose. Not with the chimera. 

Not even when I punched him and he went down the stairs last week. 

He’s blurring even more now, the edges of him taking on a red glow. He’s going to go supernova if I don’t talk him down. 

The idea of me talking Snow down from an explosion is laughable but I’ve got no choice but to try.

I take a deep breath. I try to make my voice placating, tamping down the sneer that’s threatening to overtake my face.  “I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with me, Snow.”

His eyes narrow but the scarlet glow stays. “I don’t. I’d rather not have anything to do with you at all, you complete arsehole, but being your fucking roommate’s taken that option away from me, now hasn’t it?”

“So why are you so bloody bent on talking to me now?” It takes every bit of self-control I have to not hiss the words at him.

“Because I need to know!" 

“Need to know what?” 

The heat is suffocating now. I can feel a trickle of sweat run down my neck. I dare to take a step closer to Snow and change my focus. “Cool down.” 

“What?” 

“Cool down, Snow. Breathe or meditate or do whatever you have to do to get a grip, but you’ve got to cool down or you’ll blow bloody Mummer’s to bits. And yourself with it.”

That’s not technically true. Snow always survives his own explosions but maybe it will snap some sense into him to hear the words.

I take one more step towards him. It’s like stepping into a furnace. 

I don’t think I’ll burn just from the heat, will I? I halt where I am, just in case. You never know, with Snow. 

Cooling spells. What cooling spells do I know?

“ ** _Cool down_**. **_Cold as ice_**. **_Freeze-frame_**.” No, what the fuck was that? That’s not a cooling spell. “Come on, Snow. **_Chill out_**. Any of them will do. Just get it under control.”

Snow’s eyes meet mine and they’re wild now. He knows he’s about to go nuclear.  “Just say the words, Snow. Just say the fucking spell.” I don’t know where his wand is but half the time he doesn’t need it. He just says something or thinks something and magical mayhem ensues. 

“Say them with me, Snow. Come on. **_Cool down. Cold as ice. Ice Ice Baby_**.” Fuck no, that last one’s for an ice pack. “ ** _Netflix and chill.”_** Bloody hell. I didn’t mean to spit that one out. That’s the last fucking thing Snow and I need.

What the devil made me say that?

He’s blinking rapidly but finally the wanker starts repeating after me. “ ** _Cool down. Cold as Ice. Cool down. Cold as ice._** ” 

I say it with him. The temperature drops slightly. The red glow around Snow recedes a bit. 

“Keep going. Like you mean it, Snow.” 

“ ** _Cool down. Cold as ice.”_** There’s barely any magic in the words but it’s helping, I think. It’s helping him calm down at least and that’s as good as anything. I take another step towards him.

“That’s it. **_Cold as ice_**.” I’m wracking my brain for spells but I’m coming up blank for anything other than the ones Snow’s repeating like a mantra right now. 

“ ** _Cool down. Cold as ice. Ice Ice Baby_**.” The temperature drops further. The shimmering around Snow is starting to fade. He keeps muttering. “ ** _Ice Ice Baby.”_** A cascade of ice cubes tumbles from the window sill. 

“Maybe not that one, Snow.” 

His eyes lock on mine and I nod. “Just breathe through it. Keep them going.” My voice is gentle, kinder than it ever is with him.

Except for the other night but I’m not going to think about that. Not going to think about brushing Snow’s hair away from his face and shushing him. Why is that image coming to my mind right now, when I need to concentrate and pull Snow back from the brink of incinerating me, the room, all of Mummer’s? 

“ ** _Cold as ice. Cool Runnings. Ice Ice Baby_**.” More ice tumbles onto the floor as Snow keeps mumbling the spells and it takes all the strength in me not to roll my eyes at him. “ ** _The cold never bothered me anyway_**.” I feel a chill go through me as the magic sweeps around the room at his words, an arctic wave crystallizing around us both. 

What the fuck? That’s from that movie Acantha and Ophelia are obsessed with.  The one about the ice queen. 

My feet tingle and I look down. There’s ice creeping along the stone floor, following the seams at the edges, trailing from stone to stone, climbing up the walls, leaving frost in its wake. 

What the blazes has he done now? 

In an instant the walls of our room ice over, the blankets stiffening as they freeze in place, frost climbing up the bed frames, along the table, freezing the glass of water at Snow’s bedside.

Oh fuck.

I dart across the room and shove my feet in my shoes before my toes get frostbite. It’s frigid in here and the temperature keeps dropping. Snow’s stopped casting spells. He looks gobsmacked, eyes wide and jaw dropped in shock as the ice keeps coating all the available surfaces in our room.  
  
I’m shivering. I slip and slide across the room to my desk and lunge for my wand. It’s cold and stiff. I wave it around and rub my hands on it, then point it at the ceiling. “ ** _As you were.”_**  

Nothing happens. 

I repeat it, my voice crackling with magic. “ ** _As you were!”_**  

The window creaks but the ice is still rapidly thickening around us.  I cast again. “ ** _Be kind, rewind_**.” 

Nothing. 

“Snow. Do something!”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Say something. Cast something.” 

“ ** _Back to the start.”_** Thank Crowley there’s no magic tinging his words this time.

“Not fucking that, you moron! You’ll turn us back into fucking zygotes if you get that one right, you bloody idiot.”

Snow has the decency to look abashed. 

I’m shouting out spell after spell, to no avail. “ ** _Melt the ice. I melt with you. You’re getting warmer!”_**  

All of them are fucking useless. 

“Come on, Snow!” 

He frowns and then grabs his wand from the nightstand. “ ** _Cease and desist!”_**  

It works. Sort of. The ice stops spreading but it doesn’t melt or recede. We’re at a standstill it seems.

“Bloody hell.” I shuffle to my wardrobe and pull out my thick winter coat. It’s below freezing in here. “This is like a fucking meat locker, Snow. What the fuck?”

“Shut up, Baz.” 

I do. I don’t want to goad Snow into another firestarter display like before. Although it wouldn’t be amiss having a bit of heat to melt this bloody igloo Snow’s created in here. 

He heaves himself off his bed, yelps as his feet come into contact with the thick layer of ice on our floor. I’d laugh at his graceless attempt to hop over to his wardrobe if my teeth weren’t chattering.

He shoves his shoes on and wraps his duffle coat around him. 

“What now?” All the hostility has drained from Snow’s face. He looks confused and a little bit scared. 

“We get the hell out of here.”

We slip and slide our way to the door. There might still be a fire in the Great Hall. Or we can go bunk with Dev and Niall for the night. I can spell the floor softer in there, and Snow and I can rough it with them until we can figure out how to sort this mess in our room.

Snow’s spells may be resistant to being reversed but they usually do dissipate over time. The time he spelled Wellbelove with “ ** _hair of the dog_** ” no one could get it to reverse, not even Ms. Possibelf. It took two days, I think, for the hair to finally melt away and return her to her usual glowing radiance. 

I’d not be surprised if the same thing happens to our room. It’s bloody inconvenient but it’s almost the weekend. As long as it’s set to right by Monday we should be alright. Maybe Snow can sleep in the infirmary until then. 

I grab the door handle and turn it but nothing happens. I rattle it and try again. Nothing. I yank and pull but the door is frozen shut.

“Let me try.” Snow shoulders me aside and grabs the handle with both hands. He twists it and turns it, shakes it, and finally kicks the door soundly. It stays resolutely closed. “Bloody hell.” Snow leans his head against the door then growls and recoils when his skin meets the frozen surface. “What the hell, Baz?” He’s turned to me now, eyebrows lowered, voice low and raspy. “What’re we going to do now?”

What we do now is sit, on our respective beds, and shiver. The blankets were frozen solid but I’ve finally managed to thaw them out with endless repetitions of **_“you’re getting warmer”_** but that spell does nothing for the rest of the room. 

I was kind enough to defrost Snow’s as well. 

I’m bundled in blankets, just the tip of my nose poking out. Snow’s a lump on his bed. A lump that’s shivering. 

I’m no better off. My teeth are chattering. I’ve got two jumpers on, my coat, gloves and my thick wool socks. 

This won’t do. We’re going to freeze to death in here tonight. The one fucking time Snow leaves the damn window closed. I’d gladly rip it open and shout out for someone to come get us out of here except the blasted thing is frozen shut as well. 

I’m not going to shatter the glass. That’s not going to help our situation any. 

I wonder if I can start a fire in here. But where? My eyes scan the room but there’s no good option. It’s one of the largest rooms in Mummer’s but there’s still only so much space and far too much that’s flammable in here. 

Particularly me. 

I keep casting **_“you’re getting warmer”_** under my breath to keep the blankets from getting chilled again. It’s helping but I’m using a fair amount of magic to do it. It’s late. I’m exhausted. And I’m freezing.

I glance at Snow again. I can see a few curls tumbled onto his pillow but that’s about it. He’s still shivering. 

I could start a small fire in my hands. That would require taking my gloves off and I’m not quite prepared to do that or sweep the blanket far enough away that it doesn’t catch fire. It wouldn’t actually to much to warm me, even if I could conjure it up. 

I’m out of ideas.

Except for one. And I’m working very hard to ignore that preposterous option.

It takes about ten more minutes of shivering before I finally relent. “Snow.” 

He doesn’t answer. 

“Snow. Are you asleep or have my wildest dreams come true and you’ve frozen to death?” 

Nothing. 

“Stop being a tit and answer me. It’s bad enough you’ve turned our room into the fucking Siberian tundra but if you’ve gone and died on me without giving me a chance to off you myself I’m going to be quite put out.” 

The covers are pulled down and one blue eye glares at me from across the room.

“He lives to see another day. Excellent, Snow, my plan to ruthlessly end you in a blazing cataclysm is still with in my grasp.” 

“I’d be fine with you bringing the fucking blaze right now, Baz. It’s too fucking cold.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot offer you a raging inferno at the moment.” I pause, because saying this takes far more courage than lobbing insults at him. Part of me is rationalizing this as a necessary evil, required to help us make it through the night without suffering severe hypothermia. The other part of me is strangely bashful and unnerved by what I’m about to say. 

I bite my lip and try to muster up the nerve to say it. Snow’s still glaring at me from underneath his pile of blankets. I think the bastard actually nicked one of mine. 

No matter. If he acquiesces to my suggestion it will be a moot point. 

Fuck it all. Here goes. 

“Snow. There seems to be no chance of reversing this polar vortex you’ve unleashed on us so we may as well make the best of a shit situation. The way I see it we’re both miserable and freezing. I don’t dare risk a fire in here. With our luck I’ll set the whole tower ablaze.” I’m babbling. I’m saying all kinds of nonsense and not getting to the point.  
  
“What’re you suggesting then? I’ve already got two pairs of socks, a jumper and a hoodie on.” He lifts his head to peer at the open wardrobe at the far end of the room. “We’ve no spare blankets left either.” 

I clear my throat. “What I’m suggesting is the age old, tried and true technique for conserving body heat in trying circumstances.”

“Say what?” 

The bloody bastard is going to make me spell it out. 

I grind my next words out. “What I’m saying, Snow, is that we might be warmer if we pool our resources.” I can see his whole face now. He just blinks at me. My face grows warm, despite the arctic temperature in here. I knew I’d indulged in too many rats tonight.

I’m fucking blushing.

“Meaning maybe you should come over here and bring your blankets. We can use them all to cover us and share.”

“Come over there? To your bed you mean?” 

I roll my eyes. “Yes? Where else would you suggest? Every other surface in here is covered in ice.” 

“In your bed? With you?”

“Yes.” I growl the word at him. Crowley, I’ve always said Snow’s thick but this is confirmation right here. “Must you repeat everything I say like a demented parrot, Snow?”

“I’m just making sure you’re not trying to trick me. I’m jolly well not risking coming over there just for you to attack me because I’ve overstepped my bounds or threatened your personal space or some such rot.”

“I could just let you die of hypothermia. It’s tempting.”

We stare at each other for a moment. 

“You’re serious, Baz?”

“Must you always be so thick, Snow?  Yes, I’m serious. It’s a well-known survival tactic, which you’d know if you’d ever bothered to read anything, you numpty.” My voice takes on its lecturing tone. Snow usually loses his composure when I get to this point. “Heat loss is reduced if people are in close proximity. A larger heat generating volume, doubled, with overall less exposed surface area, conserves heat. Heat conservation means more warmth.” 

“I’ve no idea what you’re nattering on about but anything that results in me being any warmer than I am right now is fine with me.” Snow rolls off his bed, blankets bundled around him and trailing in his wake, and makes his way to my bed. He pauses, eyes finding mine, head tilted to the side in question. “Alright then?”

I nod and he drops onto the bed. It takes us a few moments to arrange ourselves and we struggle in a frantic tug of war for the blankets for the space of a few moments until we manage to reach a duvet détente and burrow in.

I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Even under these circumstances Snow is still functioning as a personal space heater. I shift closer to him. 

He shifts closer to me. I do the same. 

Rinse and repeat until we’re shoulder to shoulder, legs pressed against each other, blankets around us and over our heads, as we burrow into my lumpy mattress. It’s better. It’s definitely better.

Snow tilts his head at me. “Can we finally talk about it now, Baz?” 

“Talk about what?”

“The other night.”

“Which one in particular?”

He shifts just a bit closer, his hand brushing against the back of mine. The heat of it sears into me. 

“The night you set the chimera on me.” 

I roll my eyes. “Snow. Not that again.” 

He nudges me. “Not that, you wanker.” He bumps me again. “What happened later.”

I had hoped he’d forgotten. I had hoped he’d been so knackered he wouldn’t remember. But fate is against me.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“You do, you tosser. I need to know. I need to know if it was real or if I was hallucinating it.” Snow exhales loudly. Mouth breather. “Did you sit on my bed with me, Baz?” 

This is one of those moments. Moments when I’m so unsure of how to be with Snow. Do I tell him the truth and expose a side of me that I typically keep hidden? Or do I deny it all and shield my inadvertent weakness?

Snow’s still speaking. “Because if you did, I want to say thank you.”

I can feel my heart pounding. “Is that why you’ve been following me around, stalking me? To ask me this?” 

Snow snorts. “I haven’t been stalking you. I live with you, you twat.”

“You know what I mean. You’ve been lurking.”

“I’ve done no such thing.” 

It’s my turn to snort. “You do it constantly. Like you’re my fucking shadow.”

“You’re not answering the question. Did you or didn’t you?” 

One of the many things I’ve learned over the years is that Snow is excruciatingly persistent. He’s not going to let this go and I’m at a complete disadvantage right now because I can’t just majestically stalk out of the room. I’m stuck here.

I sigh. He’s going to go on all night if I don’t answer. 

“I did.” I give him a side eyed look.

His eyes are wide and even in the dimness I can see the surprise on his face. “I didn’t dream it then?” 

“Are you in the habit of dreaming about me, Snow? Should I be flattered?”

“Shut up.”

We stay silent for the space of a few minutes and then I feel Snow’s hand brush against mine. “Thanks, Baz. You’re a right prick most of the time. But thanks for that.” His voice drops. “I don’t think I could have taken it, if you’d been a shit to me that night.”

I don’t apologize. Being a Pitch means never having to say you’re sorry.  This is the closest I’m going to come to apologizing. I bump his hand with my own. “I’m glad it helped.”

The silence deepens. It’s almost cozy, under here with Snow. The minutes tick past and then I hear the unmistakable sound of Snow’s snores. It’s the only normal thing about tonight.

It’s the last thing I hear before I drift off to sleep. 

 

 **Simon**

It’s Dev and Niall who finally spell us out in the morning. Their room is right below ours and I guess they woke up to find their room colder than normal and their ceiling iced over. It didn’t take them long to figure out we’d buggered something up in the night. 

The pounding on the door is what wakes me up. Somehow, I’ve managed to wrap myself around Baz as we slept in our nest of blankets. My arm around his waist and my face buried in the crook of his neck. His cold fingers rest on my forearm, his feet tangled with mine.

What the hell? 

He wakes up right when I do. His fingers clench into my skin for a brief second and then Baz and I simultaneously bolt up out of bed and stumble our way over to the door, not making any attempt at eye contact. 

I don’t think I want to be having a conversation with Baz about _that._ I think he might incinerate me if I even try. I wouldn’t blame him. I want to incinerate myself. 

I’m just not going to think about it. 

The room’s not quite so cold this morning and the ice has melted into puddles in spots. It’s a fucking disaster in here—water trickling down the walls, the rug on the floor completely sodden, papers on my desk saturated from the iced desk thawing out. 

The door still won’t budge, no matter what we do. Baz casts a “ ** _can you hear me now”_** and gets into a fierce verbal exchange with Dev until Niall shouts at Baz to hit the lock with “ ** _Hot hot hot_** ” at the same time he casts from the other side.

It’s obvious why he didn’t ask me. I’ve not got Baz’s finesse with spells. The door would likely burst into flames and incinerate us all if I tried it.

Baz casts it quietly and I can hear Niall’s voice from the other side of the door. The lock glows red hot and for a moment I’m afraid the blasted thing is going to melt, but then the ice recedes from that part of the door. Baz waits for a moment for the knob to cool and then puts his hand on the doorknob and jiggles it. The door creaks but finally opens. 

Dev and Niall, still in their pyjamas, take in the sight of our room. 

“That’s a fucking mess, mate.” Dev’s shaking his head.

Niall peers in over Dev’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t you do something about all the water in here, Baz? I don’t fancy you flooding our room, just because you and Snow fucked up some spell in here and transformed your room into a bloody igloo.”

“What’s the best spell to dry it up you think, Niall?”  Dev cocks his head to look back at him.

 “Dunno. **_Dry as a bone_** might work.”

The two of them bicker and Baz rolls his eyes.

We’ve still not made eye contact.

He doesn’t look as bitter as he usually does though. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that he actually was kind that night, that it wasn’t a figment of my imagination.

I can’t believe I was bloody _spooning him_ this morning. And he’s not killed me yet.

Fifth year is turning out to be full of surprises.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 


End file.
